


Lay Yourself Down

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 22:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Random Spike/Wes, in the aftermath of Fred's death. Wes is not a nice boy.





	Lay Yourself Down

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I got this random kinky idea and I wrote a few paragraphs of sex scene and then I ruined it by adding all this extra stuff to justify it, but here you go.

Vampires don’t have much practice with the aftermath of death. They leave death behind them like hotel towels for someone else to clean up. Spike thought he had more experience than most, even before the soul made him feel things more keenly and longer.

Wesley moved like a zombie, smelling of dried tears and sour sweat. Angel acted like he didn’t notice. Everyone did. Spike noticed, and he wanted to help. Maybe make up for the sorrow he’d left unknowing, unfeeling in his wake for a hundred years.

Spike leaned against Wesley’s doorframe at the end of the workday. “Hey, Wes.”

Wesley glanced very briefly at him and went back to packing up his briefcase. Spike took that as acknowledgement at least and said, “Let’s get a drink, yeah? Know a good place, off the beaten, dark and unpopular.”

“No,” Wesley said. He stood. “And I’ll thank you to leave me alone.”

“Think you’ve been alone too long. You could use some contact with the land of the living.”

A flash of anger broke over the carefully neutral expression Wesley had been keeping. He set his briefcase back on the desk and kept his gaze on it as he spoke. “You could have saved her. You were there. You could have changed his mind.”

Spike bit his lip. “I wouldn’t have.”

Wesley picked himself and his briefcase up. He looked Spike squarely in the eye as he approached the door. “And that is why I can never forgive you.”

Spike felt chilled to the bone. It took him a moment to shake himself loose and follow Wes down the corridor. “Wes. Wesley.”

Wesley had to stop at the elevators. “Nothing you have to say interests me.”

“There’s nothing I can do to make it up to you, but maybe, some day, you’ll think of something you want, or need, and I can do it for you. I’m telling you I will. That’s all.”

Wesley stepped into the elevator without ever looking back at Spike or acknowledging his words, so he assumed the gesture had been futile and empty.

***

The meeting had been tedious, as they all were, but irritation was a welcome break from grief for Wes as he watched Spike being his usual, loud, obnoxious self. Did he know how obvious it was that he was only pretending to be back to normal? Spike was flirting with the Kan’tu demon clan leader’s assistant, which looked quite like an attractive woman with ram’s horns over her ears and slender breasts – if you didn’t know the ‘breasts’ were just a large chest bone and the woman was actually a young male.

Wesley suspected Angel DID know and this was why he was paying increasingly less attention to the meeting and more time glaring at Spike.

It was worth the moment’s dalliance to pretend to head back to his office but slip behind a decorative balustrade to see how this played out.

Not a moment after Wes had secured his viewing spot, Angel burst out of the meeting room with a handful of Spike’s collar.

“Oi! Don’t bruise the leather!” Spike swatted him off.

Angel crowded the younger vampire up against the wall. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Spike pushed against his chest. “Did a bug crawl in your hair gel? I was just helping the negotiations.”

“That demon you were flirting with was MALE.”

Spike looked surprised a moment, then laughed. “So? Think I did a good job of it anyway.”

Angel pushed Spike hard into the wall. What he said next, Wes couldn’t work out because the vampires were very close and Angel spoke at a growling whisper, but he thought he caught the gist when Angel flexed his hips subtly.

The gist was confirmed when Spike broke free of the old, settled his duster on his shoulders, and said, “Think I’ll pass. Jealous Neanderthal isn’t half as sexy as you think it is.”

Angel watched Spike leave and then punched a hole in the wood paneling.

Wesley waited for him to disappear behind his office door before retreating to his own desk.

***

Spike opened his door a few days later to find Wes standing there, looking about the same and in the same clothes. He walked past Spike into the apartment without waiting for a greeting. Spike closed the door. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“I’ve decided there is something you can do for me,” Wes said. He surveyed the apartment with a detached expression. “I’ve decided I’d quite like to fuck you.”

“Uh… wait, what?” Spike closed the apartment door. “How about a beer, mate? It’ll clear your head. Probably more like food than anything else you’ve had recently.”

“I’m quite serious. You said you’d do anything for me, anything I could think of to make up for what you’d done, and this is what I’m asking.

Spike was flummoxed. He didn’t smell arousal. “I guess I did say that. Sure you won’t take a beer first?”

“I don’t want to take too long at this. Take off your clothes and lie down on your back.”

“What, right n—“

“I didn’t ask for conversation,” Wes said. He looked directly at Spike for the first time, and something in his eyes killed the next words on Spike’s tongue. “What I want,” Wesley spoke slowly and carefully, “is to see you lay your dead body down so that I might use it whether you want me to or not.”

Spike felt a shiver. After a long second, he took off his shirt and looked to Wes for some approval. He didn’t get any. Wesley dragged a chair out from the dinette table and sat down to watch.

Spike toed off his boots and undid his jeans. He kept his eyes on Wes as he backed toward the bed. “Like this?” Wes made no sign of response. Spike laid himself down in stages, slowly. The bed was cold as was the gaze watching him from across the room. Lust prickled in him, or fear, or both. He knew he was getting hard and felt embarrassed, his twisted proclivities exposed.

Spike laid his head back and ran a hand down his front. “Like what you see?”

“No,” Wesley said. He stood and took off his jacket and belt.

“Come on, Wes,” Spike said, not liking the wheedling note in his voice. He was used to be appreciated aesthetically, at least. He looked down at his body, wondering what had changed.

Wesley slapped his knee to push it wider as he knelt on the bed with his trousers and boxers pulled down. He had a small squeeze-bottle of lube and was working his cock to full hardness, his eyes and concentration on that task.

Spike felt a little sick. “Stop,” he said. He reached for Wesley’s chest. “It’s obvious neither of us really wants to-“

Wesley slapped his hand out of the way and continued about his work. “Yes, you would begin your protest just when it’s too late.”

“Wes—“

Wesley’s eyes met his, cold and angry. “I’m sure it serves your vanity to be able to say you said no, but I’m really not in an indulgent mood.”

Wes slipped a warm, wet finger into him and Spike put his foot on Wesley’s chest, holding him back. Wes stilled. “By all means,” he said, “Kick me into the wall. You might even break my neck.”

Spike said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Wesley said, “That makes one of us,” and pushed forward.

Spike let him. He fisted the sheets and bore down against the pain, slightly ashamed to know how to do that. It had been a long time, and a soul ago, since he let this happen. Shame dragged across his senses like the tearing sensation of being filled.

Wesley’s eyes were closed, his lips parted just enough to show teeth. Was he even enjoying this? Hot breath puffed over Spike’s face and Wesley started to thrust, slowly. Sweat built up between them. He pulled most of the way out and slammed in. Spike was unable to suppress a pained grunt, and Wesley’s eyes opened and something like a smile crossed his face, cruel and sideways like a knife wound.

“You’re not altogether… altogether, are you?”

“Says the man with my dick in his arse.” Wesley ground their hips together for emphasis. “Now do shut up.”

This was crazy – he was being fucked, why was he wondering what to do or think about. Spike reached for his cock, hoping to urge it back to fullness, but Wesley smacked his hand away. So he decided to go for a more compromising approach – if nothing else it should speed things along. He flexed his hips up to meet Wesley’s, clenching into the pain. If he could get the blood flowing, if he could build stimulation.

Wesley stilled. He pressed his body down the length of Spike, his stubbly chin brushed Spike’s cheek as he said, “We both know you’re a whore at heart, but I didn’t ask for that, so be still.”

Spike was startled into stillness, so that by the time he realized he’d complied, and felt anger at his hurt pride, it was too late. Helplessly, he just lay back, limply letting himself be used.

Wesley grunted. “Yes, that’s better. Good.”

It took a long time. Enough time for the friction to build up on its own and make Spike half-hard before Wesley stopped his cold, impersonal fucking, leaning forward with a long hiss of breath as his seed spilled deep inside.

Spike opened his eyes to see Wes close enough to kiss, looking at him in the distracted post-orgasmic haze. He cleared his throat. “So, that it?”

Wesley pulled himself free. “Yes. That will do.”

Spike willed himself not to get up yet, not to give Wesley the satisfaction of seeing him run like a victim for the bathroom. “Did it help?”

“We’ll see.” Wes did a remarkably quick job of straightening his clothes and walked out of the apartment without a backward glance. He left the door hanging open, too, which made Spike grind his back teeth.

***

Wesley called Angel from his car, requesting a meeting on a convenient work subject. He trusted olfactory senses would do the rest of his revenge for him.

It was wrong, perhaps, to want the vampires to suffer in some way, but there would be no permanent harm, he was sure, and the anticipation of his meeting with Angel gave Wesley the closest thing to joy he’d felt in weeks. Perhaps his boss would even beat him. That would be diverting.

Wesley pulled into Wolfram and Hart with a song on his lips.

END


End file.
